


Don't Turn the Music Off

by embarrassing_myself



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating will go up, Triggers, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-17 01:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15450201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embarrassing_myself/pseuds/embarrassing_myself
Summary: Senior year of high school was meant to be a time of farewells and celebrations. But when Stan finds bruises on Richie's arms things quickly change. He starts to learn that things for Richie Tozier aren't as bright and cheerful as he lets on. This is a story about how Stan starts to unravel every secret Richie ever tried to hide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time writing for the IT fandom but I've been reading the stories since it came out. I'd like to remind everyone to pay attention to the tags. This is very much a story about child abuse. I know everyone hates depicting Richie's parents as abusive but I really love the concept. Even though we know they weren't. Also the rating will go up. Please reconsider reading if abuse is a trigger. But I promise this will have a happy ending. Thank you so much for reading and please think about leaving a comment or a kudo! They really keep me going! One more thing! Nobody edits this so it's probably really sloppy, sorry!

“Oh my god, enough with the bug spray,” Stan huffed before he covered his mouth and made an attempt at getting as far away from Eddie as possible. The shorter boy narrowed his eyes at the blond and continued to keep his finger pressed firmly down on the aerosol can.

“No way, last time we did this I went home covered in mosquito bites, my mom had a come apart. Well not this time. Mike get over here and let me spray you,” Eddie said, pointing his can at anyone who was willing to get close enough to him.

It was the last weekend before senior year and the losers were taking full advantage of the nice weather and an excuse to have one more party before the new school year started. It was a final farewell to warm sunshine and mild nights before fall set in. Not only that but it was their last ‘fun’ year. The following summer would be filled with picking out expensive textbooks and packing their things for college. What better way to celebrate than a camp out at the quarry?

“He sprayed it in my mouth!” Richie cried, trying to run from Eddie who was still focused on his efforts at repelling any and all insects. “It taste like death!”

“Guys come on, we’re meant to be putting tents up!” Bill said, trying to get everyone's attention. The sun was close to setting and they’d be running out of daylight soon. The last thing any of them wanted was to try to pitch a tent in the dark. Two tents to be exact. A large one with enough space to fit four people and a smaller one that would hold three of them.

Bill had already got started on one with Mike and Stan while Ben and Bev worked on another one. Richie and Eddie, on the other hand, were still going around in circles. That time Richie had taken possession of Eddie’s bug spray and was threatening to throw it into the water.

Stan rolled his eyes but had to secretly fight off a smile. Even he felt the effects of being outside in nature with his friends. It was amazing how the the normally silent wooded area came alive with the sound of laughter and the splashing of water when they were all together.

The quarry had always been home to their parties and outdoor actives. Stan couldn’t count how many times they had went swimming or laid out in the sun listening to music over phone speakers. He knew they had a whole year left of Derry but Stan was already starting to miss his friends and their antics. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t all be close but it would be different.

Bill, Stan, and Mike had made plans to go to the same college while Eddie, Bev and Ben were applying to one just an hour or so away. Somehow Washington had become the goal for the teens. That only left Richie left. He was still undecided about where he’d end up but with his grades, Stan knew he could get in anywhere he wanted. Probably even Harvard if he wanted.

Stan had to remind himself though that it was still a year away. For the time being he needed to enjoy himself. And he needed to pay attention and help Bill with the tent. “Did we lose a stake?” Bill asked as he ran his hands around the ground trying to find it.

“I got it!” Richie said yelled running up to them, shiny metal piece in hand. “Eddie threw it at me earlier,” he grinned before flopping down onto the ground next to Mike. “I know you boys need my help, move over and a let a man look at it,” Richie said.

“Then move out of Mike’s way,” Stan countered, nudging the curly haired teen with his knee. “You smell like bug spray,” he sighed before taking the stake out of Richie’s hand and handing it over to Bill.

“Thanks to Ed's, don’t worry though, I threw it in the water and now he’s refusing to take to me,” Richie said with a giggle. “It was almost empty anyway, he pretty much sprayed everyone to begin with.”

“I heard that!” Eddie called out from the other workspace. Somehow Bev and Ben had gotten their tent up faster even though it was larger with more details to work out. “And I hope a giant ass bug comes and carries you away tonight, asshole.”

“Stan would never let that happen!” Richie called back, dogging the small pebble Eddie had thrown in his direction. “Come on, let’s get this tent up. Bev said she isn’t breaking out the vodka until they’re done.”

As nighttime fell the group’s mood only lightened. Along with a crackling fire, and evening swim, they shared sticky s'mores and cheap Burnett’s vodka in cherry favor. Bev had proudly pulled out the large unopened vodka bottle while Ben pulled out two twelve packs of even cheaper beer.

“Seriously, Richie and I can't finish this ourselves!” Bev giggled as the two passed the bottle back and forth. Mike and Stan had opted on a single beer while Ben and Eddie did their best to keep up with the other two.

“I can’t,” Eddie said, shaking his head and pushing the offered bottle away from him. “That shit is awful,” he groaned and shook his head. “I’m sticking with beer the rest of the night, you two enjoy.”

“Sorry babe, I can’t do anymore either, it’s pretty bad,” Ben laughed, sipping his beer. As he watched his girlfriend and and friend start to laugh even harder at each other. Richie had slipped off the log he was sitting on and instead was suddenly sprawled out on the ground, his head thrown back while he laughed. Bev wasn’t too far behind him, the poor girl was holding her sides as while she continued to giggle manically.

“Does anybody want anymore s'mores?” Bill asked, he’d been the only one to stay sober that night. ‘Just in case things get out of hand and somebody needs help. One of us needs to be sober,’ he’d said.

“I don’t, but I think you need to cut those two off. They’d pretty much downed a whole bottle by themselves,” Stan said as he glanced at the two obviously drunk teens.

“Stan my man, don’t be a buzzkill!” Richie cried out, finally sitting up and shaking the sand out of his hair. “Come on it’s not even midnight yet, we have to do something,” Richie said, his voice starting to slur some. “Like uh...truth or dare or spin the bottle...or night swimming!”

“Ha!” Stan barked out before scoffing. “Number one we’re not playing truth or dare and you know why. We're not playing spin the bottle because nobody wants to kiss your trashmouth, and finally there is no way in hell I’m letting you get in any kind of water as drunk as you are.”

Richie’s eyes widened some and he started to pout before taking another swig of alcohol. “Are we not playing truth or dare because of that small fire that happened last time? I put it right out! And the water isn’t even that deep.”

“Yes, Richie that’s exactly why we aren’t playing truth or dare. I don’t care of it’s a puddle, you're not getting in,” Stan said crossing his arms and sending Richie a sharp look.

“Aww, Stan! You want to keep Richie safe, that’s cute,” Beverly grinned before pulling out her pack of cigarettes and offering one to Richie who instantly took it.

While the others laughed in return, Stan could feel his face heat up some but he only acknowledged the comment with another eye roll.

The group of seven continued to laugh and talk and share stories for the next hour. They also continued to drink and smoke in Richie’s and Bev’s case. It didn’t take long before the vodka was gone and the fire was starting to die out. Stan sighed in contentment as he let himself look up at the night sky. He’d only had one beer and it hadn’t done much at all for him.

He could smell the familiar smokey scent of the fire and the rich scent of pine from the trees. If anything a single beer had let him relax enough to pick out all the beautiful things about about their makeshift campsite. The fireflies flickered around them the chirping of the crickets was drowned out by their laughter. Stan was tempted to close his eyes before he heard something that directly wasn’t nature. No, it was the sound of retching.

“Oh shit,” Richie mumbled before he scrambled to his feet. “I’m going to throw up,” he said, as he hurried to get away from his friends and the tents. They still had to sleep there and if Richie puked there he knew it wasn’t going to be an enjoyable night.

“I told you to cut them off,” Stan groaned while Bill got to his feet to try and get a better look at Richie. The teen had stumbled further towards the trees but not far enough. Everyone could hear the sound of him getting sick.

“Who wants to go?” Ben asked looking around the circle. Of course any one of them would get up and go to Richie. Each one of them was brave enough to help a sick fallen Loser in their time of need. It was only a matter of who was going to go first and who had the strongest stomach.

“I’ve got him,” Stan sighed, volunteering after a short few seconds of silence. The group mumbled their approval as Stan got up and headed over to the other.

“Alright Richie, I’m here,” Stan said as his tone softened up some. There were times when Stan teased Richie or gave him a hard time, there were even times when he was a little too harsh with with the teen. But Richie had always been there for him and Stan, in return, was always there for Richie. That was sort of how they worked. ‘Fuck with each other as much as possible, but never leave each other behind.’

“Here, I’ll hold you hair back,” Stan said while Richie continued to spill the contents of his stomach onto the ground. With one hand he kept curly hair out of Richie’s face and with the other he tried to rub small circles into his back. “I told you to slow down,” he mumbled, wincing at the sound and jerky movements Richie was making.

“Stan my man,” Richie said with a slur once he’d finished. He was breathless and shaky but still managed a smile. “My hero.”

“Oh my God,” Stan huffed, shaking his head at Richie. “You’re going to be so sick in the morning.” After nearly half a bottle of vodka? Stan could only imagine the hangover both him and Bev were going to have.

“But I’m sick right now,” Richie said with a hint of confusion. “You held my hair back and everything though,” he grinned. His face was still flushed and he was still hunched over with his palms flat against his knees like he might not be finished. All he could was pray that he was.

“Yeah well, Eddie made me,” Stan lied. He kept one hand firmly on Richie’s back while he leaned in some to see if he was alright. “You’re going to have to go lay down,” he added.

“Hey Stan?” Richie asked after a couple of seconds of silence. He swallowed thickly and did his best to straighten himself out. It was a little hard though when the world was still spinning and everything looked like he was glancing through a kaleidoscope.

“Yeah?” Stan asked, digging into his pockets, looking for some gum to offer to Richie. Eventually finding it and handing over a stick.

“I threw up on my shirt,” Richie frowned, glancing down at himself before taking the gum and popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Stan said again, groaning before grabbing ahold of Richie’s hand. “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.” Stan recalled the first time he’d ever drank. Richie had done the exact same thing for him. That and Stan had been dealing with a crush on Richie since the ninth grade. Helping him get cleaned wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened.

Stan lead Richie back to the group, holding on tightly to his hand so he wouldn’t fall. On a good day Richie had the grace of a baby deer trying to ice skate, when he was drunk things got ten times worse. “Richie stand up,” Stan said, trying to haul Richie back towards their tents. “Hey, I have get him a new shirt,” Stan said, calling out to the remaining six. “We’re probably just going to turn in, he’s so drunk.”

“Trashmouth trashed?” Mike asked as he gave them both a sympathetic look. Bev was leaning heavily into Ben. Eddie was already helping Ben put the food food. Stan knew it wouldn’t be long before they all headed to bed too. Once somebody threw up it greenly meant the party was over.

“Trashed as hell!” Richie said as he continued to cling lightly to Stan, doing his best to keep himself up.

“Alright guys, I’ll see you in a bit. We’re going to wrap this up out there and we’ll head to bed. Eddie and Mike are sharing with Bev and Ben so it’s me you and Rich,” Bill hummed, starting to put out the fire.

Stan helped Richie into the tent before forcing him to sit down. They had all lined up sleeping bags nicely. The tent was filled with pillows and a couple of extra blankets so it stayed comfortable. Stan was thankful, seeing as how he doubted anyone was getting up before ten. And two out of seven people were probably going to be feeling like shit.

“Sorry,” Richie mumbled as Stan started to look around in his bag for something he could wear.

“It’s alright,” Stan said, finally pulling out an extra shirt he’d brought along with them. “I always have an extra change of clothes for this reason, take off your shoes.”

“I’d take anything off for you, Stanley,” Richie said before giving Stan a smile. He still looked flushed and his hair was mess. Even with throw up on his shit, Stan couldn’t help but think Richie was adorable.

“Beep Beep,” Stan huffed before sitting down next to Richie and tugging at his chucks. “Off, come on, we’re going to bed.”

“Really I would take anything off for you, anytime you wanted me to,” Richie said, his tone lacking in the humor Stan was expecting. For a moment Stan didn’t move, instead he slowly looked up at Richie with question. He was drunk, he needed to keep that in mind.

“Richie, don’t start,” Stan mumbled before he started to work on Richie’s shoes again.

“I’m seriously!” Richie said, pulling his foot out of his shoe with Stan’s help. His voice was still slurred but he was starting to look at little better. The tent was lit with a dim light from a portable electric Lantern. “You have no idea how much I love you. Ask Bev, I told her. Eddie too. I love you and you saved me. You didn’t let me throw up in my hair.”

“Richie, you’re drunk,” Stan pointed out, finally getting the other shoe off. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Stan didn’t know if he could deal with Richie’s drunken nonsense. Not when he himself had real feelings for the boy. It hurt to sit there and listen to Richie confesses fake love.

“I know! I know I’m drunk and I’m also honest!” Richie said, tossing his head back in protest. “I’m drunk and I’m honest and I’m in love with you. I always have been but you’re straight and I’m covered in puke.”

Stan stared at Richie, unsure of what to say. How long had he been wanting to hear Richie say those words? For Years. Maybe not the part about him being covered in puke but they were pretty close to what Stan had hoped he’d hear someday.

But they couldn’t be real, could they? Not when Richie was like that. He couldn’t mean anything he was saying. Stan couldn’t let himself be hopeful, not yet anyway. Maybe tomorrow but right then he just wanted to get to get Richie to sleep so he could do the same. He wanted to think about those words and hurt without anyone watching him. “Richie, let’s get your shirt off,” Stan whispered finally.

“You don’t believe me but you will. I’ll make you believe me. Ask me tomorrow and I’ll tell you the same thing,” Richie mumbled, his voice finally starting to show signs of exhaustion. “Help?” He asked as he started to struggle with the shirt he’d been wearing.

Stan grabbed a plastic shopping bag, glad he’d kept the bag Bill had bought marshmallows in, and set it aside. “Lift your arms up,” Stan sighed as Richie did what he’d asked. It didn’t take much to get the shirt off and over Richie’s head but instantly Stan caught sight of something.

The tent had been poorly illuminated but there was enough light for him to see properly. And what he seen startled him. “What his that?” Stan asked as he dropped the shirt to the floor. The shirt Richie had been wearing had sleeves that came down just to his elbows, it was no wonder why he hadn’t noticed before.

On both of Richie’s arms there was a series of dark purple bruises almost identical to each other. On both arms there were was a set of four finger shaped bruises and right under them towards the inner arm was a smaller bruise. Like a thumb print. “What is that?!” Stan said, his voice raising. It looked just like somebody had grabbed ahold of Richie roughly.

“Huh, what’s what?” Richie asked, looking around to try and find what Stan had been talking about. “What is it?”

“Your arms,” Stan hissed. He grabbed a hold of Richie’s wrist and extended his arm to get a better look. “Who did this to you?”

Richie laughed and rolled his eyes. “You how how it is Stan my man. Don’t you ever get so frustrated with me that you want to grab me and shake me?” Richie asked. His voice was still slurred and tired but Stan could sense something else there too.

“I’m not kidding, who did that? Did somebody do that to you, it looks like a handprint,” Stan pointed out. “Richie answer me.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Richie said, quickly pulling his hand away form Stan. “I get in my dad’s way, sometimes he’s got to just…” Richie trailed off before grabbing the other shirt and quickly throwing it on. Stan didn’t point out that he’d put it on backwards and inside out. “I make my dad mad sometimes, I have to stop doing that, you know?”

Stan felt his mouth fall open. Richie’s dad had done that to him? The new shirt still hide the bruises but it was too late. Stan knew they were there and he knew how had done it. He felt sick to his stomach as he watched Richie flop down onto Bill’s sleeping bag. “You dad left bruises on you?” He asked again as he tired to make sense of everything that was happening. Richie had told Stanley that he loved him and that his dad hurt him. What was he meant to do with those two insane truths.

“How often?” Stan asked trying to get more answers out of the other teen. “Does he do that often? Where he just grabs you had he puts marks on you?” Stan asked but Richie was already snuggling into the sleeping bag and pillow, his eyes closed.

“Not a big deal Stanward, will you come lay down with me?” Richie whispered, already half asleep. Stan felt numb as he pulled his own shoes off and eventually his jeans. He had so many question and his stomach was turning unpleasantly inside him. Why hadn't he noticed? How long had it been happening?

Stan eventually settled down next to Richie who instantly pressed himself into his side. Stan didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around him carefully. “We’re going to talk in the morning Richard, rather you want to or not,” Stan whispered and the only response he was was Richie’s slow and even breathing. He was already asleep

Stan didn’t sleep much that night, he wasn’t even sure if he’d fallen asleep at all. No, he spent most of the night staring at Richie. He’d wrapped an arm around him and listened to his soft slow breathing. He’d switch from thinking about how Richie had said he loved him and then to what he’d said about his dad.

Even when Bill finally headed to bed for the night, Stan didn’t force himself to pretend to sleep. “I see he got my sleeping bag,” Bill laughed some before getting comfortable in Richie’s. “Are you okay, I thought you’d be asleep too?”

“I’m alright, just lis tending to the sounds,” Stan mumbled. He wasn’t embarrassed by the fact that Richie had decided to cuddle with him. It was a very Richie Tozier thing to do, cuddling that is. Stan tossed around that idea for a bit. While Richie was with his friends cuddling, he wondered what it was like at home. Instead of soft touches it was bruises in the shape of handprints.

“What about Richie, is he alright?” Bill asked, stretching out adjusting his pillows. “That sounded pretty bad.”

“He will be,” Stan mumbled. The words held a different meaning though. Because somewhere inside of him he had already decided that he’d do whatever it took to make sure that Richie was okay.

Eventually Bill too fell asleep and Stan was left awake. Nobody had turned the light off though and Stan slowly started to push Richie’s sleeve up. Stan was hoping that the marks wouldn’t be there. That maybe he’d gotten drunk after all and-and...Stan knew deep down what he’d find on Richie’s thin pale arms.

The marks were still there. Long purple bruises in the shape of fingers, a smaller one like a thumb. If it was truly Richie’s dad who’d done that, he’d grabbed awfully hard.

 

 

When the morning came Stan was the first one out of the tent. He got dressed and grabbed his toothbrush and a bottle of water. While he brushed he thought about how he was going to ask Richie about everything. Because yes, Stan knew he was going to ask. About both things. Everyone had always mistaken Stan for a shy reserved boy but that wasn’t the case. He was quiet because he was thinking, observing, judging. He wasn’t a coward and he wasn’t afraid to ask questions when he wanted answers.

Eventually one by one his friends crawled out of their tents to join him on the log pile they had all used last night. Mike first, then Ben and Bill got up around the same time. After that Eddie and Beverly got up.

“Oh my God,” Bev groaned as she moved in to sit next to Ben. “I need coffee, I need a cigarette, I need breakfast,” she mumbled before pressing her face into the side of the other’s arm.

“I know, we’ll get some soon,” Ben said with a warm smile as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He knew she was hungover and in need of a few things. Nicotine, caffeine, and protein all in that order.

And then finally about an hour after Stan first got up, Richie made his way out of the tent. “I feel like shit,” he said.

“You don’t look much better,” Eddie said, giving Richie a once over. His hair was a mess and he had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept all that well himself. He looked a little more pale than usual his shirt was still inside out and backwards. Even his glasses sat a little crooked on his face..

“I’m always cute,” he mumbled before joining the group. He sat next to Stan and sighed. For the first time though Stan wondered if Richie was sitting next to him because of how he felt and not because he needed to be close enough to annoy him. “Guys, please tell me we’re getting breakfast,” Richie asked with large pleading eyes.

“Yeah, we already talked about it. We were just waiting for you,” Mike said, throwing his own smile at the tired boy. “Most of the stuff is put up, we just have to take the tents down.”

They had taken Mike’s truck, Ben’s car, and Stan’s car. And Stan already knew that on the way home was when he’d get Richie to talk. Slowly the group got to work loading everything up and getting ready to leave. Somehow leaving took a lot less time than it did setting up.

“Hey, Bill, you don’t mind driving back with Bev and Ben? Richie and I’ll meet you at the diner in a bit,” Stan said when Bill put his sleeping back in the backseat of his car.

“Uh, no I don’t mind,” Bill said even though his tone held confusion. He shut Stan’s door and leaned up against the car. “Is everything alright?” He asked carefully. He was one the only person in Stan’s friend group who knew how he felt. “Did something happen last night?”

“Not really,” Stan said shrugging lightly. “I just wanted to talk to him,” Stan knew it was more of a lie than anything. Yes, many things had happened. But he couldn’t fill Bill in just yet. Not when there was a lot left to be answered. Bill gave him a skeptical look before crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t buying it.

“Come on, I know something is up, tell me. You have to, I’m your best friend,” Bill argued while Stan only gave the other an exasperated look. “Stan!”

“Okay, okay!” Stan huffed. “Since you feel like you need to know everything,” Stan muttered before lowering his voice. He looked around to make sure that everyone else was buse before he started again. “He said he liked me but he was really fucked up last night, we’ll have to see what he says today.”

“You should have said something last night,” Bill hissed. “I even asked you if something was up!” He took looked around the car, making sure that nobody was in earshot. “What all did he say?”

“I couldn’t say it then! Don’t worry about it okay? I’m just going to remind him of what he said and find out if that’s really how he feels or not. Don’t stress me out over this, it’s hard enough,” Stan said and Bill instantly deflated some.

“Sorry, I know it’s not easy. Just tell me how it goes,” Bill said before he looked over at Ben’s loaded car with Bev already buckled in. Then there was Mike with Eddie right next to him in the cab of his old beat up tuck. “I’m better to get in before they take off. We're heading straight for that Sydney's cafe though, I expect a text with everything in it as soon as we get there,”Bill added before taking off.

Stan sighed before climbing into the driver's seat and getting himself situated. It wouldn’t take long to get the restaurant. He wanted to have at least some idea of what he wanted to say.

Not more than a couple minutes later though Richie climbed into the passenger seat next to him. “Billy isn’t riding with us?” He asked still looking tired but a little more awake

“He’s riding with Ben and them,we’re just going to follow everybody” Stan said, pulling out of his makeshift parking space and heading towards to the exit path right behind Ben.

“Oh, okay,” Richie trailed off before he pressed his head against the window and closed his eyes again. Stan couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even if he was the one to do it.

“There are few things I’d like to talk about though,” Stan said a long few moments later. Right away Richie opened his eyes glanced over at him, a look of nervousness and slight fear shone in his eyes.

“Stan my man, my Jew with a plan, what did you need to talk about?” he asked, looking much more alert than seconds before. “Is this way Billy isn’t riding with us, am I getting yelled at?” Richie joked, leaning back in the seat and trying to make himself appear as nonchalant as possible.

“Yeah,” Stan answered back, not bothering to lie. In situations like that it was best just to get it over with. “Not yelled at though. This is about what you said last night,” Stan answered, glancing over at Richie before putting his eyes back on the road. Already they were nearing town.

“Uh, let’s remember that I was really drunk last night,” Richie said with a nervous laugh. “I’m a Trashmouth and I say lots of things on a daily.” Richie shrugged but Stan could see the anticipation.

“Do you remember what you said?” Stan asked back, taking a left turn when they hit the main road in Derry. Mike was following closely behind them and Ben was right in front. “Try to remember what you said.”

“Richie Tozier never forgets anything,” Richie mumbled, his voice getting a little lower, like he was admitted into defeat already. “But I have a good idea of what you might be referring to.”

“You said you loved me,” Stan said, not bothering to look over at Richie. He kept on driving but his stomach felt like it was in knots and his heart was in his throat. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was gripping so tightly to the steering while Stan knew his hands would probably be shaking. “Do you remember that?”

Richie chewed on his bottom lip for a bit, slinking further down into his seat. The car was filled with silence as Stan waited for his answer and apparently as Richie tried to come up with one. Finally after what felt like hours, Richie answered back. “Yeah, I remember that. Do you like...hate me now or something? Not that I would be lame you honestly I just...this wasn’t how I planned on on telling you.”

“How did you plan on doing it?” Stan asked, turning down another side straight as the approached the restaurant. “And no I don’t hate you, don’t be stupid.”

“You don’t hate me?” Richie asked, his head snapping around to look at Stan. His voice had gone up a couple octaves and his eyes were wide with desibliefe. “Do you pity me or something? I don’t understand.” Richie could feel his heart pounding away in his own chest and Stan thought he looked a little frantic. Like the conversation was just too much for him. “I didn’t plan on ever telling you,” he mumbled.

“No, I don’t hate you. I don't pity you. That’s not what this is about,” Stan huffed. “I want to know if your serious. If you honestly meant that you did have feelings...feelings like that for me?” Stan said before suddenly making a left turn away from his general direction. They were only a block off but suddenly Stan wanted to feel more alone with Richie.

“Restaurant is that way?” Richie questioned Stan, his voice only above a whisper. He looked upset. Stan didn’t like that the usually smiling boy was wearing a worried expansion. Richie’s eyes had always gave away so much. “Stan...oh my God,” Richie groaned before covering his face with his hands. “Yes, alright? Yes I meant what I said. But you don’t have to feel bad for me or be angry, I won’t like force myself on you know? I just...I don’t want things to change because I can get over this. Fuck, I wasn’t going to tell you! It’s stupid, it’s so stupid,” Richie said, his sentences quickly turning into a ramble.

Stan didn’t say anything, instead he slowed the car and pulled around the back of a gas station, shifting the gears into park. Richie didn’t say anything but looked at Stan with his wide eyes all over again. “Stan? Please don’t be pissed off at me. Like, if you want me to get out and walk the rest of the way I get that but...you said you weren't mad. We can just forget it right, let’s just fucking forget this ever happened.”

Stan didn’t say anything once again but he undone his seatbelt and leaned so that he wa much close to Richie. “Shut up,” he mumbled before moving the rest of the way in and pressing their lips together, their noses pumping gently.

It was a short kiss, shallow but sweet and full of all the words Stan wanted to say but couldn't. While Richie had gasped he didn’t pull away and Stan was sure that he could hear everything Stan was trying to say. Slowly but surely he started to kiss back, just a small movement of lips but they both understood. The kiss was overly simple but Stan decided that it was his favorite kiss he'd ever had.

When he slowly pulled away, he watched as Richie’s eyes gently fluttered open as well. He still looked shocked but there wasn’t the fear that Stan had seen earlier on him. “Does that mean you like me back?” Richie asked, his voice hopeful but still bordering on cautious.

“Yes,” Stan said, laughing lightly. “Yes I like you back, Tozier. I wish you would have said something so one, it could have spared us both a lot of grief,” Stan mumbled before leaning back into his seat.

“Wow,” Richie said, finally smiling again. “Wow.” That seemed to be the only thing he was capable of saying. “So, we like each other? We like like each other?” He asked Stan, his smile never falling from his face. “Seriously right? Not just because I told you I liked you and you feel obligated?”

“Oh my God,” Stan said before rolling his eyes. “Richie, i’ve had a crush on you since ninth grade. I promise, I like like you. I like you like how you like me,” Stan said, making sure that Richie couldn’t misunderstand his words. He wanted to be as clear and direct as possible.

“I think this is the best day of my life,” Richie laughed, shaking his head like it still hadn’t sunk in. “Wow, yeah I can’t believe it.”

“Wait, now there was something else you said last night. Something about your dad,” Stan added. Once again Richie paled. “I just want you to talk to me okay? Look, I seen the bruises and last night you said they were from your dad.”

“Stan, no,” Richie groaned as he threw his head back against the seat. “Please? I don't want to talk about this. You just told me you had feelings for me. And I’ve liked you since eighth grade. Can’t we just think and talk about that?” Richie asked.

“Why didn't you tell me this sooner? Why didn’t you tell anybody?” Stan asked, ignoring Richie’s request. He didn’t know exactly to handle that situation. Because Richie liking him was something he could address. It was easy to express those feelings. Richie liked him, he liked Richie. That was an easy problem to solve. Somebody, no a parent, hurting Richie? Stan didn’t think he’d ever have to face an issue like that.

“Come on, Stan my man. My Jew with a plan. It’s not a big deal,” Richie said, playing with the tag on his shirt. “My dad is strict, he expects me to follow the rules,” Richie shrugged.

“How long?” Stan asked. His eyes scanned over Richie’s form again. The same messy hair, pretty dark brown eyes with thick lashes. The circles that were under those eyes from a night of heavy drinking. The high cheek bones and pale skin. He was so beautiful. ‘How could somebody ever want to hurt him?’ Stan thought to himself.

Richie was wild and loud. He cursed worse than any of them and he was the first person to make a joke. He had a bad case of ADD and Stan knew he was only still when he was fast asleep. But Richie was also kind and loving. He would give any of his friends the shirt off his back. He always knew when somebody needed to laugh. And he was the first person to offer a comforting hug.

“What do you mean how long?” Richie asked, his fingers now playing the seatbelt.

“How long has this been going on?” Stan clarified, his own eyes boring into Richie.

“I don’t know? It’s always been like this. He just gets rough sometimes, Stan. I don’t say anything because it’s honestly not a big deal. You know how I am. I piss him off sometimes and he needs to...he just wants me to behave and sometimes he’s gotta drive that point,” Richie said with a short laugh. “Honestly, he doesn’t even yell at me.”

“What about your mom, does she know?” Stan went on to say. “Does she know that your dad grabbed you hard enough to leave bruises on your arms?”

Richie said heavily before his eyes fell back out the window. “Mom isn’t around much. She’s got her own problems, the drinking you know? I’m lucky I I get to see her a couple times a week. But can we please drop it? I promise if anything happens I’ll tell you. Like I said, it’s really not anything to worry about.”

Stan was silent for a few minutes before he started the car back. “Alright, Richie. We’ll leave it for now,” he mumbled. For now. The conversations wasn’t over. And if he seen anything else on Richie that indicted something bad was happening, he’d be right back on him. But they were already late to the restaurant he knew his friends would start to wonder why they had went a different way.

“Alright, okay,” Stan said before nodding in agreement. “But Richie?” Stan started again, waiting until Richie’s eyes met his before he said anything else. “I’m watching,” Stan added.

“I know you are Stanward. Little rabbits have big eyes,” he hummed. “And besides, we’re leaving for college. I’ve dealt with my dad all this time. What’s one more year?”

Suddenly though Stan was close again. He was leaning over the armrest and invading Richie’s personal space. Richie couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering down to glance at Stan’s lips. And just like that Stan was kissing him again. This time more confidently. It didn’t take Richie but a second to kiss back. He moved his lips against Stan’s slowly, trying to match every gentle movement. Stan could feel how Richie had completely relaxed into the kiss.

When they pulled away Richie was smiling again. “I could get use to that,” he whispered, staring at Stan in a way he’d never let himself before.

“Me too,” Stan said with a small laugh. “Let’s get to the diner, everyone is probably wondering where we stopped.” Stan said as he took the car out of park and headed towards their favorite breakfast place. “Oh Richie? Fix your shirt, it’s still on wrong.”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who left a kudo! They mean so much to me! Also please remember to look at the tags before reading. It's pretty sensitive stuff. Also I would for you to leave me some feedback in the comments!

Stan knew that him and Richie had some kind of understanding. They weren’t exactly dating but they were suddenly more than just friends. Stan felt like he was stuck in that complicated gray zone. The uncharted territory of the in between. He hadn’t told anyone about his and Richie’s kiss, not even Bill. However, Bill was the only one who knew about what had been said between the two of them.

Stan knew Richie hadn’t said anything either. It wasn’t like he was introducing Richie as his boyfriend. But every time Richie would rest his head on Stan’s shoulder when they sat close enough, it meant more. It was the same actions but with different meaning.

Stan hadn’t gotten another chance to kiss Richie but the shift in their dynamics was still clear. They were texting each constantly, whenever they went out with their friends, it was always Richie sitting next to him, practically draping himself all over Stan. That wasn’t unusual for Richie though. Everyone knew he was affectionate and that he liked physical contact. He was practically touch starved. But instead of pushing him away, Stan would merely roll his eyes and let the other cling off him.

While he still thought about the bruises he’d seen on Richie, the other seemed happy. He was still the same Richie Trashmouth Tozier. No matter how hard Stan watched for something to appear out of place, it never did. After a couple weeks had passed, Stan slowly started to let his guard down. Maybe Richie had been telling the truth? Parents aren’t perfect and perhaps it was only a one time incident. Even though once was one too many times already. Stan started to feel like he could stop holding his breath, waiting for something to go wrong. The minute Stan did though, something went wrong.

Gym class was about the only time five out of seven Losers were present. Of course Stan always had a couple of his friends in whatever class he was in, but usually only one or two. Three if he was very lucky. So it was hard for him to dislike the class when he got to see four of his friends before they were all reunited for lunch. He wasn’t surprised when Richie was running late.

Bill, Mike, Ben, and himself had already gotten changed out along with the rest of the class. They’d already started with their stretches when Richie pushed through the large gymnasium doors. He looked just like had that morning, only thing Stan noticed that was out of place, was that he hadn’t changed into his gym clothes. He was still in the same ripped up jeans and, a plain shirt, and a brightly patterned windbreaker.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Richie said, aiming a smile to the coach. “I had to stay after class for some help.”

“Where are your gym clothes Tozier?” Coach walker sighed, grabbing his clipboard and heading over to the teen. Everyone was still meant to be stretching but Stan and his friends’ eyes were on the new interaction between the coach and Richie.

“I didn’t bring them,” Richie shrugged but Stan could see the defiance in his eyes. “Sorry, I’m sure I can still do laps in jeans.”

“You know the rules Tozier, you need to go get changed out. I’ve got extra shirts and shorts in my office, go grab a pair and get dressed.” The coach said, folding his arms across his chest while he waited for Richie.

“Sorry coach, I don’t foresee that happening. I’ll just have to make do today,” Richie said.

“What’s he doing?” Stan hissed while the group of four watched on. He’d tried to make it seem like he was still focused on toe touches but the nervous feeling was slowly starting take up all the room in his chest.

“Refusing to get dressed, I guess,” Bill said with a frown and a concerned look on his face. They were close enough that they could hear the conversation but not so much that Coach Walker would notice them staring right away.

“Richie, you aren’t going to join my class and stay in my gym dressed like that. You can’t run with all those clothes,” The man said, tapping his pen against his clipboard. “Now go put on some shorts and a new shirt.”

“I bet you’d like that huh Mr Walker, I’m not showing enough skin for you? I’m sure a lot of people are disappointed that they don’t get to see all of me today but changing out is a no can do,” Richie said with a smirk.

“Oh my God,” Ben groaned while Mike ran a hand down his face. Stan couldn’t stop himself from wondering why Richie wouldn’t just go get dressed. He usually didn’t have issues with changing out. Sometimes though he’d ‘forget’ to bring his clothes... he’d never questioned it until just then.

“Tozier I’m going to give you one last chance, you go get dressed and join the rest of us for class or you get out of my gym. You can go sit in the locker rooms and take a zero.

“I’ll take the zero,” Richie huffed, throwing his hands up. “I don’t see why I need to get dressed out when all we’re doing is running laps and playing knockout. Can’t I just sit on the bleachers? You don’t have to exile me to the locker rooms.”

“Why didn’t he just get dressed?” Mike wondered, hardly stretching anymore. None of the Losers were though. Stan had a bad feeling about the situation.

“Tozier out of my gym before I give you a zero for the whole week,” Coach Walker said, his tone slowly starting to rise.

“I’m going!” Richie grumbled, already storming back out the doors he’d came in from, letting them slam behind him.

The coach shook his head before blowing his whistle. “Alright everyone, start your laps. And I want to see some hustle today!”

“I wonder what that was about,” Bill said, giving Stan a look before the class started to jog. The gym wasn’t too terribly big and it wasn’t a lot of effort to do a total of three laps around it. Stan actually liked coach Walker, he’d never had any problems with the man. But he’d never refused to get dressed out either.

“I need to check on him,” Stan said, feeling the familiar tug of needing to see Richie. He was getting use to the feeling of wanting Richie right there next to him but the pull was ten times stronger than it typically was.

“How?” Bill asked keeping up his steady jog, while Mike and Ben followed close behind them.

“I guess you could tell the coach you have to use the bathroom, he might let you go then,” Bill suggested.

“Yeah, tell him it’s an emergency,” Ben said, glancing over at the man with the whistle, trying to urge on a group of students who had fallen behind. “He’ll probably let you go.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stan agreed. “I’ll be back,” Stan mumbled before he dashed out of his place in line. “Coach Walker?” Stan called out, stopping next to them man.

“What’s wrong Uris?” He asked, lowering his whistle and clipboard while he waited for Stan’s answer.

“Can I use the bathroom? I forgot to go before class,” Stan explained, hoping that the man would excuse him for a minute. Especially seeing as how he’d never asked to leave before.

The coach sighed lightly before nodding and pulling a pass off his clipboard. “Make it fast, you’re going to miss basketball if you don’t hurry,” he said before handing the laminated slip over.

With that Stan made a beeline for the door. Instead of making a right and heading to the bathrooms, he made a sharp left and went to the locker room. “Richie?” He asked, stepping inside.

“Why hello Stan, have you too been banished to the dreadful locker room dungeons? All we do here is suffer the stench of gym socks and body odor,” Richie answered. He’d been stretched out on one of the wooden benches looking somewhat comfortable. “Honestly like this is a punishment, I’m just going to play on my phone the whole time,” he laughed before holding up his cell phone. “A punishment would have been making me run laps in jeans.”

Stan didn't answer though, instead he let his eyes trail up and down Richie’s form. He could tell the other was getting uncomfortable when he went from lounging to sitting up straight.

“So I take it you here for a reason?” Richie asked. “Cause I don’t think coach would have sent you here to keep me company,” Richie added with a small grin.

“Take off your shirt,” Stan said as he stepped further into the room. He crossed his arms and gave Richie a hard look. Challenging him to say no.

“Now Stanford, I know I’m a boy of very little self respect, but I’d like you to buy me dinner first before I start taking my clothes off for you,” Richie laughed but he jumped off the bench and took a step away from Stan.

“Richie I’m not kidding, take it off right now,” Stan snapped while his stomach twisted up into knots. He hoped he was wrong. God just let him be wrong about everything.

“Okay, okay listen the reason I didn’t want to take my shirt off is because…” Richie trailed off while Stan slowly started to close in on him, nearly backing him into the wall. Richie put his hands up in defense while he tried to create some space between them. “I have a very contagious rash and I don’t want to expose anyone-Stan!”

Stan hadn’t let him finish before he’d grabbed onto Richie’s t-shirt, trying to lift it up. “Richie, don’t play with me. Let me see.”

“Stan the man gets handsy!” Richie yelped while he tried to fight the other off. Richie use to be the tallest of the group. Slowly though the rest of them had caught up. Bill was officially the tallest of the group, Stan was next, and Richie was only the third tallest. Mike and Ben were the strongest. And the only one of the Losers Richie could probably take would be Eddie. He wasn’t much of a match for Stan. Still he was trying. “Stan! Come on, stop messing around!” Richie said, finding that he had nowhere to go with his back against the old tile walls and Stan quickly overpowering him.

“We both know what your hiding,” Stan said in a huff of air, finally wrestling Richie’s shirt and jacket off of him after a struggle. Both boys stood there panting from the short fight. Richie from squirming and trying to escape and Stan from having to yank two layers of clothes over the other’s head. “Oh my God,” he said softly. “Oh my God, Richie,” he said again.

Bruises lined his arms, much like the ones before, and this time his ribs and stomach were decorated with angry deep purple marks. Some looked new, turning to a sickly yellow and green while others were fresh and black. Richie quickly covered his chest with his arms, trying to hide as much of his multicolored skin as he could.

“Look, I’m fine! Really!” He said, his tone verging on frantic. “I've got behavioral issues and I get in the way, my dad is just trying to...he’s trying to make me follow the rules is all. Don’t act like you don’t ever get in trouble at home.”

“Richie,” Stan mumbled softly. He felt like he couldn’t find the words for what he wanted to convey. “I get grounded, I get my phone taken away, I never get hit.”

For a long few seconds Richie didn’t say anything. His gaze dropped to the floor and he shrugged his response. “I guess you’re just lucky then.”

Stan didn’t respond. How could he? He wasn’t /lucky/ that his parents didn’t hit him. That was how things should be. It wasn’t like a slap on the hand from his mother or the spanking he might have gotten when he was little. Stan knew he’d never been hit hard enough by anyone to leave a mark. It broke Stan to think that Richie just assumed that was how things were. That it was okay.

“Don’t, please, don’t give me that look,” Richie signed, finally letting his arms fall to his sides. “I’m fine Stan, really. Oh my God, you act like this is the end of the world. For God Sakes, do you know how many times I got pounded by Bowers? Even Bill punched me in the face once. It’s not a big deal,” Richie argued.

Stan just reached out and pulled the other to him, wrapping his arms around Richie’s lean frame. He half expected the other to pull away but he was surprised when Richie seemed to relax after a few moments. “Stan, I’m fine,” he whispered.

“You need to tell somebody,” Stan mumbled, his lips pressed against Richie’s ear. He didn’t want to let him go. A frightening sensation took over him as he considered all the possibilities. Richie was warm and soft pressed against him like that, Stan didn’t even care that he didn’t have anything on his top half. He could sell the deodorant he’d used and the cigarette he’d smoked. He would never let go.

“No, Stan,” Richie said, shaking his head before he pulled away. “That’s not going to happen. I told you before, I’ll be in college next year, things will be different. I just have to get through one more year.”

“You don’t even have a college picked out yet! Does your mom know about this?” Stan asked, feeling like he had to raise his voice. He had to get the other to understand the severity of the situation.

“Yes, my mom knows,” Richie said, his eyes shifting away from Stan once again. “She knows that and I know that they love me okay? Both of them. My mom doesn’t exactly have a hands on parenting method. She just goes along with whatever my dad thinks is best. Sometimes I’m a lot to handle you know? She doesn’t know what to do with me so she just lets dad deal with it.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?” Stan asked, giving Richie a confused look. “You keep talking about yourself like your some kind of burden to your parents. You aren't some pet that won’t mind, you’re their son. What they fuck have they been telling you?! Nobody should hurt you, they should keep you safe, they should-they should-”

“Stan, Stan my man calm down okay? Relax, damn,” Richie muttered, grabbing onto Stan’s hand and bringing them closer together. “Look, please don’t tell okay? It's not as bad as it seems. I promise, I’ve got it under control.”

Stan didn’t answer. Richie was asking him to do something he wasn’t sure he could do. Before he could find something to say, the fist bell went off. They had managed to miss a whole class of gym. Richie from being sitting out, Stan from wrestling him and forcing him into a conversation.

“Fuck,” Richie mumbled before hurrying to grab his shirt off the floor, tugging it on quickly, adding his bright windbreaker to it. “We’re late Stanley,” Richie groaned. “Or well I’m not. You a missed a whole class so I suggest we get out of here before everyone piles in. At least think about keeping that promise. It’s something to consider.”

“Richie,” Stan said, his tone full of warning. “Don’t ask me to do things I can’t do.” Stan watched as Richie straightened out his clothes and gave him a soft smile. Like they hadn’t just talked about his dad hitting him.

“Oh I know, don’t get all huffy on me. I’ll see you later okay?” Richie added before glancing around and placing a swift kiss to Stan’s lips. “Now, I’ve got to get to math and you need to get dressed.”

Stan watched as Richie bounded out of the locker room, leaving Stan behind as everyone from gym started to rush inside.

Despite having to explain to his coach about how he’d felt to I'll to return to class, the rest of the day had went normally. He’d managed to doge the other’s questions. Stan didn’t want to cover for Richie, lying to his friends left a bad taste in his mouth. But when Bill and Ben asked what had happened, Stan told a different story.

“He’s got a rash…” he said with a small sigh before pushing his science homework away from himself.

“A rash?” Bill asked, narrowing his eyes. It was the last class of the day and one Stan shared with Bill and Ben,The three of them had somehow managed to get assigned to the same table and since then it had been where every bit of gossip between the three was told.

Stan gave Bill a pointed look, one he hoped the other would understand. It was an ‘I’ll fill you in later,’ kind of look. “Yeah, some kind of weird skin thing,” Stan added before looking towards the clock. It was only a few minutes before school was dismissed for the week. Everyone was on edge, waiting for the impending weekend. Even Stan was ready to go.

But he didn’t know that things would only get worse over the weekend. His two days off from class would only be filled with stress.

^^

It had been two long days since Stan had heard anything from Richie. It wasn’t as if he’d never lost contact with a few of his friends over the weekend. When the holidays and vacation came around, it wasn’t unheard of for them to lose contact with each other for a week or so. But there was something about the last two days that left Stan uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that he’d called Richie no less than six times and text him way more than that. He’d apologized and hoped that Richie wasn't angry at him.

But when he’d started to ask his friends on Sunday evening if anyone had head from Richie, none of them had. He couldn’t be angry at all of them. The worried feeling only depend. By the time Monday morning rolled around, Stan was practically dashing around the parking lot to find the other losers. Richie always got a ride with Bill, Bev and Bill rode together. Eddie’s mom still dropped him off. And Mike and Stan drove themselves. The parking lot in the mornings had become their spot. It was where they gathered themselves and tried to prepare for the day.

Just like everyday Stan spotted his friends grouped together but still there was no Richie. “Where is Richie?” Stan asked, jogging up to Bill. “Did he not ride with you?”

“I went to his house but he never came out,” Bill said with a shrug. “I called and everything.” The losers slowly stopped their chatter and watched Bill and Stan with interest.

“Did you not knock?” Stan asked, giving Bill another look, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh, I honked? I just thought maybe he had overslept or something,” Bill said, somehow sounding guilty for not going to the door.

“Stan’s what’s wrong?” Bev asked, flicking her cigarette down to the ground and stomping it out. “What's with the sudden interest in Richie?”

“Yeah, you called everyone asking if they had seen him,” Eddie added, narrowing his eyes at Stan in suspicion.

“That’s not important right now,” Stan huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Bill, how long did you wait for him?” Stan asked, his voice clipped with annoyance.

“Stan I waited almost twenty minutes, he’s usually outside waiting for me. Maybe he’s sick or something. I didn’t want to just go up to his house and knock if he was still in bed. I’m sure he’s got a good reason,” Bill said trying to reason with Stan who seemed on edge.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Stan asked, lowering his voice some while the other four looked at each other in confusion.

“Secret’s don’t make friends,” Bev said with a frown. “If something is wrong with Richie we deserve to know, we’re his friends too.”

“Don’t be a secret Susan Stan. What do you know?” Ben asked before folding his arms across his chest.

The parking lot was starting to clear out while students made their way inside. The loud atmosphere had quieted as the rest of the lingering people moved along. It was just them and Stan had a decision to make. Before he could come up with his answer though, Bill spoke up again.

“Is this about a rash?” He asked, exchanging a knowing look with Stan.

“A rash?” Mike asked, tilting his head as he thought about what Bill had just said. “You mean the rash Richie had the other day.”

“Yes, this is about a rash,” Stan said slowly, subtly trying to confirm it with Bill. “Richie has a rash. I’m a little worried about it.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Did you get it too?” Eddie spoke up, looking from Bill to Stan. The group was silent as they all stared at Stan, waiting to see what he would say.

Stan hesitated before going on. “Maybe.” He said before clearing his throat. “Bill, could you please take a look at this with me.” Stan wanted to crawl inside a hole and hide. He sounded ridiculous talking about some kind of rash but it was his excuse, he couldn't change it.

“Uh, yeah sure no problem. Guys, you might as well get to class. I need to look at Stan’s...rash for a minute. I think it might be contagious.”

“Ew,” Bev said, taking a step back as she pulled Ben and Mike back with her. Eddie had already spirited three cars away. “Alright, well just catch up with you later then. I hope you feel better Stan. Let us know if you hear anything about Richie.”

“Right, of course,” Stan mumbled while him and Bill climbed inside Bill’s car for extra privacy. The moment the doors were shut Stan sighed heavily. “You know I don’t have a rash right?” He asked, turning to Bill.

“I kind of assumed. But what’s this really about? What’s up with Richie?” Bill had the same worried look on his face that Stan was sure he’d worn all weekend. He looked out into the parking lot, making sure his friends were nearly at the doors before he started.

“Listen, Bill. This is just between you and me. Richie can’t know that I told you. It’s...a secret,” Stan said, sliding down some in his seat. He hated that it was a secret but there wasn’t much he could do. At least not without completely breaking Richie’s trust. “And not a Loser Secret either. This just you and me.”

Bill didn’t answer for a few long seconds but slowly he started to nod in agreement. Like maybe he didn't’ like the idea of keeping secrets from his friends either. “Alright, me and you then.”

“Promise me.” Stan said, his expression firm as he gauged Bill. He knew he could trust the other. Bill was probably the most loyal person he’d ever met. But he still wanted to hear him say it.

“Stan! Stop, your scaring me. What’s wrong with Richie? Is he okay? I promise, alright?” Bill said, sitting up straighter as he stared at Stan fearfully.

“I don’t think so,” Stan said shaking his head. He took a deep breath before telling Bill everything he’d seen in the locker room that day and what he’d seen the night they had gone camping together and everything Richie had said.

Bill sat there silently, an unreadable look on his face while Stan recounted everything he knew and all the worries he had been feeling. That was why he'd been so concerned with figuring out where Richie was.

“Fuck,” Bill mumbled before running a hand down his face. “What are we going to do?” He asked, already fishing his keys out of his pocket. “We should go check on him. We-we should tell somebody that this is happening.”

“No, we can’t, not yet. I think maybe we should wait until after class. I’ll give him a couple more hours to get back with me and if he doesn’t I’ll go over there by myself.”

“Stan, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If Richie’s dad is hitting on him...we need to figure something out.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Stan snapped. Instantly he gave Bill an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’m just stressed. I promised him I wouldn’t tell and now...I know something happened this weekend. I just don’t know what but I’ve got an awful feeling about it.

“You really think going there alone is a good idea?” Bill asked, looking as stressed as Stan. “Should we even wait?”

“I think we should wait, just so we know for sure. And I can go alone. I don’t want Rich to know I told you. Besides, it’s Monday and his dad has to work. He’s my parents’ dentist. He’s there Monday through Friday and he doesn’t get home until six or seven.”

“You have to tell me everything. Seriously and keep your phone on you in case you need to call me or the police…” Bill trailed off, shaking his head sadly. “This is fucked.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s really fucked,” Stan agreed before the two sat there, neither of them speaking. After a few minutes had passed, Stan finally spoke back up. “I guess we should just try to get the day over with, you know?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can focus but the sooner we go in the sooner we can leave. Hopefully Richie will text somebody today,” Bill added as the two of them got out of the car.

Stan could only hope he was right.

^^

Part of Stan had suspected that Richie would just ignore his knocking. It was almost a surprise when the other came straight to the door. “Why, Stanley, is it that time already?” Richie asked with a bright smile when he opened the door.

Stan didn’t know what he’d expected Richie to look like. He’d thought maybe there would be bruises all over his face or something distinctively wrong with him. But there he was looking just like when Stan had last seen him. But with one slight difference.

“Where the hell have you been? And are those new glasses?” Stan asked, standing in the doorway while his eyes continued to scan Richie over.

“Hello to you too,” Richie laughed before stepping aside and letting Stan in. “I had a feeling you’d be here today,” he said after he shut the door behind the other teen. “And that’s nice of you to notice.”

“Cut the shit, Richie. Where have you been all weekend?” Stan asked, following Richie further into the house, neither of them stopping until they got to the kitchen.

Stan couldn’t remember exactly the last time he’d been in Richie’s house. Maybe a couple months ago. He hadn’t visited Richie’s house nearly as often as he’d visited everyone else's though. He’d even been inside Eddie’s house more than he had Richie’s. The kitchen was warm though with the natural sunlight pouring in through the sliding black doors. It was neat and clean and decorated with red accents.

“Relax, Stanward, I got grounded and my dad took my phone. And today I just...didn’t exactly feel like going,” Richie explained as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “We can go to my room if you want, I’m still not technically allowed to have anyone over though. Nobody should be home until later.”

“This is fine,” Stan mumbled before taking a seat at the table. “Why didn’t you go today?” Stan asked, running his fingers across the polished wood. “Bill said he showed up to get you.”

“Yeah, I would have texted him not to come but you know, no phone. I just was taking some me time,” Richie said, a pleased look on his face. “You worry too much Stan, everything is fine.”

“What happened to your glasses?” He asked next, The way they were sitting made it feel almost like an integration, with Richie playing the role of the suspect.

“I fell asleep in them Friday night. Mom had to take me to get new ones, that’s why I’m grounded,” Richie said. They looked almost exactly the same as his last pair. Maybe a little rounder but they were still the same black plastic frames he always wore. Just a little shinier.

“Your dad grounded you because you broke your glasses?” He asked, giving Richie a confused look. “Why would he do that? It was an accident.”

“Yep,” Richie said shortly, like he didn’t want to discuss it. “Our insurance only pays for one new pair a year. He was upset that he had to pay out of pocket for new ones. I can’t blame him,” Richie mumbled

Stan didn’t say anything for a moment. Although he was dying to ask if his dad had hurt him again. Richie seemed to pick up on the unspoken question though.

“Stan, it’s okay, I just got grounded. No fists involved this time,” he laughed lightly. It was far from funny in Stan’s opinion but he was relieved. Richie actually sounded like he was telling the truth. But how many times had Riche had to lie about what his dad had done and Stan had just never picked up on it? He couldn’t be sure.

“The house looks nice, your mom did a good job,” Stan mumbled, trying to fill the silence. Richie only scoffed in response though.

“Yeah, mom,” Right huffed as he looked around the kitchen.

“What is it?” Stan asked, wondering if he’d stepped on a nerve for Richie.

“My mom didn’t clean the house, my mom is hardly ever home. I cleaned it,” Richie said before rolling his eyes.

“You cleaned it? By yourself?” Stan asked in slight belief. “Did he make you do that too?”

Richie only laughed again. “He didn’t make me clean the house because I was grounded. I do that anyway. Mom works too and if she’s not at work she’s out somewhere drinking. The only time she comes home is when dad calls her screaming. Look around, I’m running this bitch.”

Stan didn’t know what to say. It kept happening. Just when he thought he’d heard the worst of it Richie would say something else to shock him into silence. He ran a hand down his face before scooting his chair away from the table and getting up. He wondered what happened if Richie didn’t clean the house. Would he get hit for that too? How did he find time to go to school, get home, clean the house, and have his own homework done before his father got back? It made him feel sick and it made his eyes sting with tears.

“Do you have a bottle of water?” Stan asked as he got up from the table, already walking towards the fridge. “I just...I need some water” he added, shaking his head.

“Wait! I don’t-” Richie said, trying to stop Stan from opening up the refrigerator. But it had been too late, Stan had already pulled it open in search of a water. Once again Stan was in for a shock. The contents of the fridge was disturbing. Or more like the lack of contents.

Stan stared blankly into the empty refrigerator. It was completely bare but just as clean as the rest of the kitchen. As if it had just been bought. There was nothing in it at all, no condiments, no leftover overs, nothing. He closed the door before opening it again, hoping that maybe he’d just been hallucinating. Now there was a big difference between a family running out of food. There was always a small bit of something in the fridge. Like butter or ketchup. Something that gave away that there was once food there. Not Richie’s.

Stan looked over at Richie and the two stared at each other. Then Stan looked back to the fridge before opening the freezer. It was just as empty. Stan slowly closed both doors and walked over to the cabinet, Richie didn’t even bother to try to stop him. Like he’d suspected, those too were completely empty. Each cabinet he looked in was empty. Then Stan stepped over to the pantry. Still there was nothing.

“What is this?” Stan asked, turning around to look at Richie. “You have no food in your house?”

“Stan,” Richie groaned, before throwing his head back like Stan was the issue and not the lack of food. “Why do you have to make things hard?”

“Richie, you have no food...anywhere in this kitchen. Why not?” Stan asked, fearing the answer. “How long has it been this way?” Richie’s dad owned his own dentist practice, his mom worked as well. There should have been money for food. Something was wrong.

“Look, fuck alright, just...that was part of the punishment. Dad went through the house and threw everything out. I’m sure he’ll have mom go to the store tonight. I was only grounded until tonight anyway.”

“I don’t understand,” Stan said, shaking his head. “Part of your grounding was that you couldn’t eat? You said you’ve been grounded since Saturday, it’s Monday now!” Stan said, his voice getting higher and louder.

“Mom will go to the store tonight, she already let me know,” Richie said, his voice calm as he watched Stan. “It’s only been a couple days. I’ll eat tonight when I’m not in trouble.”

“Oh my God,” Stan muttered as he moved to sit back at the table. “Richie oh my God.” How many times had Stan said that? How many more times would he say it?

For once Richie didn’t say anything though. What could he say? He could tell himself over and over that it wasn’t so bad but it was harder to convince Stan of that. Maybe Richie was even starting to realize that things were out of control.

“Mom will go to the store tonight,” Richie said again softly. “It’s been worse before, you know? Last year he made me go fI've days.Three isn’t so bad. He just wouldn’t let me go today because he didn’t want me having lunch.”

“This can’t happen, you’ve got low blood sugar!” Stan yelled. “What about last year when you passed out? How many days had it been then?”

“Stan come on, everyone has low blood sugar if they don’t eat. Yeah, I got sick that year because I didn’t eat enough! What do you want me to do? Leave? Where would I go?”

“My house, obviously,” Stan said and Richie only laughed lightly before shaking his head. “I’m serious, stop laughing every time you try to get out of something. I’m trying to help you.”

“Stan, I’m fine, okay? I’m just fine! Stop worrying about me. Please, just let me take care of this by myself. When I’m eighteen, this isn’t even going to matter.”

Stan hide his face in his hands and huffed again. What was he going to do? How could he make Richie realize how bad everything was? “Let’s go get something to eat. Just let me do that for you.”

Richie glanced at the digital clock on the stove before shaking his head. “While I would love to take up on that, my dad is going to be home soon. Or hopefully my mom with groceries. If they come home and I'm not here, I’m dead.”

Stan’s mouth fell open and Richie quickly corrected himself. “Not actually dead. I’ll just be in even more trouble. And I’d really like some dinner tonight so...do you think we could do that another time? Like as an actual date?”

It was Stan’s turn to laugh. Because despite everything, despite how disgusted and broken he felt, Richie was still his same perfect self. “Yeah, Rich, we can do that. We can go out on a date.”

“Please understand,” Richie whispered before dragging his chair around to sit with the other. “Trying to change things...I’m close to freedom I can taste it. It’s only a matter of months now. I can make it another couple of months here. But trying to ‘solve’ this issue isn’t going to make it any easier on me.”

“Richie, you’re asking me to do things I can’t just do. I can’t ignore the fact that you haven’t eaten in three days because you accidently fell asleep on your glasses. That’s sick and wrong and and...I can’t stand the idea of you being hurt. I can’t!”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Richie said before wrapping an arm around Stan. It seemed odd that Richie was the one getting abused yet he was still trying to confront Stan. “I’m not going to break, I know how to stay out of his way. I’ve been doing it for seventeen years. Don’t worry, I’ll be in school tomorrow.” Richie said softly before leaning over and pressing a kiss to Stan’s cheek. “And you know what the best part it?”

“What?” Stan asked, no longer bothering to hide his tears. Richie leaned in again only to press a kiss to his lips that time.

“I get to go out on a date with Stan the Man Uris. How fucking lucky am I?!” Richie asked, wiping away Stan’s tears while he smiled again. “Man, I’m so lucky.”

^^  
Even though Stan had left on good terms with Richie, he still couldn’t shake the sadness he felt. How could he protect somebody who wouldn’t let him? All he wanted to do was take care of Richie but that was proving to be harder than he’d originally thought it would be.

When he got home that night and his mother put his own full dinner plate down in front of him, he couldn't stand to eat it. It made him feel sick looking at it. How could he eat if Richie hadn’t? How could his own parents starve him for something as stupid and innocent as breaking his glasses?

The boy with the cute grin and messy hair and freckles had stolen Stan’s heart and he couldn’t figure out why anyone would ever hurt Richie. When all he’d ever done was try to cheer everyone up around him and make them laugh.

“Stan, is everything okay?” His dad asked while his mom looked on at him with worry. Stan wondered why he had loving parents and Richie didn’t. He’d never once been hit by them. Nobody had ever taken away food as punishment. Even on his worst days, his family loved him and showered him with that love. Stan wanted to hide again. He wanted the earth to swallow him whole because he felt guilty. He felt like he’d been so ungrateful for his own life, he felt like he’d been an awful friend for never noticing what Richie was going through. Worst of all, Stan felt like a failure for not being able to make it better.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just not too hungry tonight,” Stan mumbled. “I’m a feeling a little sick. If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll head up to bed.”

“Of course, Dear. Do you need anything?” His mother asked gently. “Can I bring you some aspirin?”

“That’s okay. I’ll feel better in the morning,” Stan said, taking his plate and emptying it into the trash. Then he felt guilty for wasting food when Richie hadn’t had any for days.

“If you’re still sick tomorrow, I’ll call you in. I hear the flu is going around again. That might be it,” his mom added, getting up to help Stan clear his seat at the table. “Here, I got it, you get up to bed and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

“I’ll see you in the morning son. I love you, try to get some sleep,” his father said and Stan felt his throat tighten. All he could do was nod.

“Love you too dad. Mom. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

When Stan got up to his room he grabbed his phone, intending to call Bill. But when he noticed a text from Riche he quickly opened it. It was a picture and it had only been sent a couple minutes ago. He was instantly filled with a bit of relief when he realized what it was.

Riche had sent him a picture of his own dinner plate. Pork chops, hash browns, and fried egg. It didn’t change how Stan felt but it did give him enough peace of mind to sleep that evening. But not before sending Richie a quick message. ‘Eat your dinner and try to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning. Call me if you need me.’

Stan knew he’d have to call Bill in the morning and tell him everything. Suddenly though he felt like he’d been drained of all energy. It was like having the weight of the world on his shoulders and it was only getting heavily. Bill would wait until later, all Stan had enough drive to do was crawl into bed and fall into a fitful sleep.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
